Breach
fiction by michael werneburg
2002.07.26
"Remarkable! How does it work, your Highness?"
"I've no idea, sir. My education was of a different nature, I'm afraid. But I have all the technical specifications right here."
The Special Agent nodded and turned to regard the cargo box lashed to the deck. He scanned this and saw that it was full of Terran technology of unknown purpose. "I see we're around the far side of the mine. But you haven't asked what you're looking for in compensation for all that you have to sell?"
"Oh, I have enough to sell for the rest of my lifetime. Many lifetimes, perhaps. I just want to live. I was falsely prosecuted for some things that are hardly crimes and forced to serve among the crew on one of the insufferable working craft that monitors these waste facilities."
"That sounds dreadful indeed. So you wish to honor us by spending the remainder of your days with us Benanjil?"
"Benanjil? Oh, right. Yes, or at least until I can parlay a position of significance back among my people."
"As is your birthright, your Highness!"
"Well said."
"But may I ask, when you said waste facility, were your describing sites such as this one that is being excavated?"
"Oh yes. The dust in the repository accretes to our subtime field generators. There's a tiny amount in a sealed compartment on this sled."
The amazed Special Agent reflected that his senior scientist had wondered about exactly that possibility. He'd give the man a promotion tonight. But to dispense with the dust-like material in this fashion: the Terrans clearly didn't understand what they were producing. "Your Highness, that is very illuminating. It certainly explains the mutagenic properties of the material," he added.
"I'm sorry to hear it is as dangerous to you as it is to us."
Special Agent Four-Quartet-Oauryiid-of-Sector-North reviewed the data that his team was pulling in from the Terran's memory chips. There was a breathtaking amount of it, far more than the Special Agent might have guessed. It wasn't all indexed yet, but he searched for an explanation of the subtime technology while he half-listened to the Terran prattle on.
By the time the Terran had brought the sled back to their starting point, the Special Agent had found the designs he was looking for and without extreme difficulty had grasped the designs the remarkable subtime field generator. The Special Agent noted that the fuel required by the Terran technology was within Benanjil capabilities today and was in common industrial use if not commonplace among their people. He believed they might even have some on their ship!
As they entered the final hundred meters of the trip around the pit, the Special Agent spotted some armed men advancing on the position of his crew. Unlike so many of the people throwing their lives away fighting over the material in this site -- could it really be industrial waste -- these men were moving in formation and fast. And they were armed with proper military weapons. The Terran didn't seem to notice, so the Special Agent did some quick thinking.
The Terran put down the sled near the Special Agent's ship, and turned off the field generator.
«Attention all personnel!» cried the Special Agent. «We are about to be attacked by trained soldiers. I want to cede this space and the Terran to those soldiers. Get aboard the ship, now.»
Still standing on the sled, he told the Terran, "Good-bye, your Highness. Please accept these tokens, would you?" With that he dropped several pieces of gold into the surprised Terran's hands. With a flourish, the Special Agent produced a short energy blade and expertly cut the field generator from the dashboard of the sled. He stepped off the sled, and cut the lashings from the cargo box.
"Wait, what are you doing?" cried the Terran.
"Leaving!" The Special Agent crossed the space to his own craft and boarded through the aft portal. They were off the ground at once and cloaked in seconds.
Behind them, the Terran stared in shock at the disappearance of their ship. He was overrun by the hostile soldiers in less than twenty seconds.
Once aboard, the Special Agent issued an order that would be picked up on the ship's comms. «Keep our speed and our altitude down. We're cloaked which makes us invisible. But we can still be detected by radar and other means.»
«Yes, sir!» can a verbal response from the helm.
Turning to Two-Quartet-Syunil-of-L4-Asteroids, he asked, «Bring me one of the captured Terran automatons, would you? Whichever has the largest power source.»
«At once,» the junior man told him.
The Special Agent went to a work bench in the ship's machine shop and dismantled the cowling of the Terran technology. As he compared the device in his hands to the stolen Terran schematics, he was certain he'd worked out how to fashion one himself. It was mostly electronics but with some ingenious mechanical components that seemed to work on the quantum level. In a few minutes, he heard the sound of the treads on the deck behind him and saw Two-Quartet-Syunil-of-L4-Asteroids with the device he'd asked for. Still in his airtight suit, he smiled at the younger man and said, «Do you see this small component on the automaton's central stalk?»
«Yes?»
«That's a field generator. We didn't know it, but we have collected many Terran devices that are capable of subtime travel. Now, you see that black strip under the chassis, here?»
«I'll warrant that's a power supply. Not a fusion generator, but a high-quality battery.»
«Which means these tiny discolored lines are the power feeds for the field generator.»